


Inadmissible

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Missing Scene, One-Sided Slash Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7616263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal on Peter and Elizabeth's couch. (Missing scene from 1.10.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inadmissible

**Author's Note:**

> Gen with one-sided slash feels. 
> 
> Thanks to mergatrude for beta, and for the title suggestion of “moar cuddle, plsthx” which I so rudely rejected. <3

From his position reclining on the couch, Neal frowned at the fax printout. “Only four names came through?”

“Four’s enough,” said Peter. “We can talk to them. You rest up; I’ll call Jones and get him to run these through the database.” He took out his phone and went through to the dining room with the fax, just as Elizabeth came back with another icepack. 

She gave it to Neal with a sympathetic smile. “Get some sleep. That sedative’s going to take some time to work its way out of your system.”

“Thanks, Elizabeth.” Neal didn’t actually have much of a headache anymore, but he was woozy and he appreciated the solicitude. He shut his eyes and listened to the low murmur of Peter talking on the phone. And tried to go over the last couple of hours, to see if he’d said anything especially incriminating while under the influence. Not that Peter could use such confessions against him, but it was important to keep track of what the feds had on him. 

He and Moz had made it to the second floor— Moz. Oh hell. 

Neal pressed the icepack to his face for a second, then lowered it. “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to borrow your phone.”

“All right, Jones. Thanks. Let me know when you’ve got something.” Peter came back through. “What?”

“Your phone.” Neal sat up, ignoring the way the floor undulated beneath his feet. “Powell’s goons took mine when they patted me down.”

“Someone you need to call? You’re supposed to be resting.” Peter sounded amused, but he tossed his phone into Neal’s lap.

“It’ll just take a minute.” Neal gave Peter a meaningful look, and Peter huffed and went upstairs. When he was safely out of earshot, Neal dialed. The call was answered almost before it rang. 

“Suit?”

“Moz, where are you?”

“Neal? Why are you calling me from the Suit’s phone?”

“Long story. Did you get away clean?”

“For some value of ‘clean,’” said Moz. “I loaded the documents into an empty van at the service bay, but before I could hotwire the vehicle, a couple of security guards came out and drove off in it. Sorry, man.”

All that evidence. All those clues. Neal suppressed a sigh and focused on damage control. “Did anyone see you? Where are you?”

“I’m across the street from the clinic, behind a hedge. What do you need?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. I’m at Peter and Elizabeth’s. De-hedge yourself, and I’ll meet you back at June’s later.”

“You left without me? Fine. But I call dibs on that Nero d’Avola in your wine rack,” said Mozzie. “And don’t forget to erase this call from the Suit’s phone.”

“I won’t, Moz.” Neal disconnected and doctored the call log, painfully conscious that he and Moz, a pair of world-class career criminals, hadn’t acquitted themselves much better than Jimmy Burger, a hapless young informant with no criminal experience. The fact that Neal had been shot with sedatives rather than a bullet was small consolation to his pride; he’d been detained and required rescuing by the FBI, and if the names in the fax didn’t pay off, the whole endeavor would be for nothing.

Of course, it had been a rush job, thanks to Peter’s requesting the clinic’s records, but even so: next time, they would have a much stronger exit plan. Or three.

Peter came downstairs again, taking them two at a time. “Did Mozzie get anything?”

“I don’t know what you mean. And no.” Neal gave the phone back, lay back down and straightened his blanket. 

“It wouldn’t have been admissible, anyway,” said Peter. “Don’t worry, we’ve got the names from the fax. We’ll make this work.”

Neal looked up at him, and there was no trace of the usual exasperation, just warmth and confidence. They were a team. They were going to get Powell together. And Peter had stolen the security tape for him. “Peter, I—”

“Don’t.” 

Neal felt the tension ease from his shoulders. “You want me to talk to Elizabeth about the magic hands situation?”

“No,” said Peter, decisively. “If you want to pay me back, what you can do is forget any of this ever happened.”

Neal smirked. “I can do that.”

“Especially don’t mention it to your little friend.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t ever pull that kind of bone-headed stunt again,” said Peter, obviously warming to his topic. “I told you what happened to Jimmy, and you went right ahead.”

Neal started to regret raising the matter. “Got it.”

“And help me get Powell before he—”

“Peter.”

Peter stopped and looked down at him.

“Thank you,” said Neal, seriously, hoping it would be enough to derail the lecture. His head was starting to ache again. He shifted the icepack to his temple.

Peter sat on the edge of the couch next to him and put a gentle hand on Neal’s shoulder. “You need to see a doctor?”

Neal shook his head minutely, trying to ignore how it felt to have Peter sitting there next to him, warm and solid and reliable. How safe it felt. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” For a moment, Peter didn’t move. Neal let his eyes fall shut, focused on keeping his breathing steady, on not reacting. He had enough to hide, enough to worry about, what with Kate and June and June’s granddaughter. He didn’t need any more complicating factors. 

“Okay,” said Peter quietly. He gave Neal’s shoulder a pat and stood up again. “I’m going in to the office. El will keep an eye on you. Just take it easy.”

Neal knew he should reply, should put a brave smiling face on the moment, but he was suddenly exhausted. Exhausted and safe. So he stopped trying to hide or strategize or do anything at all—Peter would take care of things for now, it was under control—and let himself sink into sleep.

 

END


End file.
